The other day at my academy, I had a young 14-year-old and his older brother helping me clean up. As we worked, he stumbled across a pile of my old, worn-out belts—white, blue, purple, and brown. They were stained, frayed, and clearly had a lot of miles on them.
He picked one up and asked, “How much would these belts cost?”
I smiled and said, “A lot of hard work.”
He paused, then clarified, “No, I mean if I wanted to buy one, how much would it cost?”
I told him the truth. “About $15 on Amazon. But why would you want to buy a belt that isn’t worth anything? That’s like buying a high school or college diploma online.”
That moment stuck with me.
In Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, the belt isn’t the achievement—the work behind it is. Every belt I’ve ever earned represents years of showing up, failing, getting frustrated, getting injured, doubting myself, and coming back anyway. The sweat, the losses, the lessons, and the discipline are what give that belt its value. Without that process, it’s just a piece of fabric.
And it made me wonder about the world we live in now.
Have we lost our determination to earn things the hard way? Do people still have the patience to stick with something when it stops being exciting or starts becoming uncomfortable? When progress slows, when motivation fades, when results aren’t immediate—do we stay, or do we quit and look for shortcuts?
In martial arts, as in life, there are no shortcuts that actually lead anywhere meaningful. You can’t rush growth. You can’t fake experience. And you can’t buy credibility. Whether it’s a belt, a diploma, a career, or a relationship, the value comes from commitment over time.
Those old belts on the floor weren’t trophies. They were reminders—of persistence, humility, and staying the course when quitting would have been easier.
You can buy a belt. You can buy a certificate. You can buy the appearance of success.
But you can’t buy the journey—and without the journey, none of it really matters.
